


The Drive

by LateStageInfernalism



Category: GWA - Fandom, Original Work, gonewildaudio - Fandom
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Finger Fucking, L-Bombs, M4F, Making you Scream My Name, Oral, Public], Road Trip, Side of the Road Sex, audio script, gonewildaudible, mdom, romantic, secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28446126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStageInfernalism/pseuds/LateStageInfernalism
Kudos: 6
Collections: LateStageInfernalism's Audio Scripts





	The Drive

[M4F] The Drive [Road Trip] [Finger Fucking] [Oral] [Mdom] [Side of the Road Sex] could be [Cheating], or it could just be [Secret] [Romantic] [L-bombs] [Making you Scream My Name] [Public]

Please feel free to adapt, redact, modify or interpret my scripts any way you choose. I consider myself your collaborator, and I am grateful for your efforts.

This is a fantasy by adults, for adults, and about adults.

Emphasis noted by *asterisks* / (notes like emotion or speech) / [Sound FX. Optional]

We’re friends. That’s all anyone else knows. That’s all that they need to know. No one even questions the idea of us being together on the road for twelve hours.

It makes sense for you to come with me, after all. We’re heading back to where we both grew up. We just planned our family visits at the same time. To save money, and have someone to share the driving with.

That’s the lie that we tell others. Maybe that’s what we tell ourselves, too. But as soon as you get in the car, we lock eyes, and something passes between us. We both know that we won’t be able to behave ourselves. It stops being about *if* something happens but rather *when*.

I can’t forget the last time we slipped. I try and lose myself in girlfriends and porn and make some other kind of new memories to replace this one but there isn’t any replacing you. I’m done pretending. When I fuck her, I see you. I see you as you were that night, at the party at your apartment. You were a little tipsy but so ready. A shared look is all it takes. We step away from the busy gathering, one of your friends noticing but not saying anything, giving you a knowing smirk. 

We go back to your room and close the door, you undo your belt and push your jeans down, getting on all fours on your bed, impatient for penetration. I’m ready, but you hold your arms behind you. I take your discarded trendy black belt and tighten it around your wrists until you whimper. I had my cock out and inside you, and it was fast, too fast, but you came so hard, head down, biting your comforter with my fist entwined in your hair. I filled you, and a few minutes later we were back in the living room, thirty seconds apart to not arouse suspicion. 

We texted each other the next day. Innocent, friendly “it was good to see you.” Bullshit just to prove that it was a purely physical need and nothing else. We’re good at deceiving each other, I guess. But the emptiness I felt later told me I was wrong. I ignored it.

We’re only two hours into the trip when I start. We’re talking about something that happened to you a week ago. It isn’t that important but you like telling stories, and I love hearing your voice. My hand rests on your knee. You pretend not to notice it, but you don’t withdraw or push it away. It travels slowly, so slowly, up your leg to your thigh. You’ve stopped talking now, looking at me with hungry need. I smile wickedly as you push your hips just as far forward as the seatbelt will allow. You want my hand *there* and you want it *now* but I won’t go any faster. 

You’re already breathing fast as my hand slips under your skirt, up to your panties. I don’t bother staying outside but slide right in. I know you so well, and that includes your warmest and most secret places. You’re wet already and close your eyes as my fingers slip inside you. You gasp and bite your lip as I thumb your clit. A little bit of this attention and I barely have to move my hand at all. You’re grinding against me, hard, with a death grip on my arm. You don’t care that its broad daylight or that at least two long-haul truckers have taken a peek at what we’re doing. You just need to cum.

You do, gasping, and crying out, your body shuddering. I can tell that the orgasm took you by surprise, both in intensity and in timing. You sit quietly for a few minutes, breath slowing. I see some tears in your eyes. I’m worried that maybe I took it too far, but you give me such a smile. Such appreciative and promising things. Things I need. 

I take the first exit that suits my purposes. County Road 14. No services. No food. All I want is a place to stop because I need you, *now*. It’s a lonely road, I drive about five hundred feet from the highway, then pull over and park. I look at you, my gaze demanding. You yield to me like you always do.

We both get out of the car, fast. We walk maybe ten feet off the road, onto the soft grass. Anyone could see us here, but we’re beyond that now. Let them arrest me so long as I get to fuck you first. It smells like crushed clover, and we hear the drone of Cicadas in the distance. You get on your knees in front of me, a vision in a white blouse and short skirt, looking up at me with adoration. 

Your hands are pulling at my belt, my zipper, my cock. I haven’t been this hard in years. You take me in your mouth, using your hands as little as possible. You’ve always been giving. Men don’t appreciate it, they think its wrong that you’re so good at servicing them, tormented by the idea that you might be as promiscuous as they are. I understand you. I like to give too, and I think it’s beautiful.

You move back and forth, speeding up, my hands tangled in your hair, guiding you. It feels so good. You take me deeply, in the back of your throat, looking me in the eyes. You’re telling me its okay. I should use you, fuck your mouth the way you know I like. I want that, but I want something else a lot more. I gently push your head back. You look up at me, licking your lips, wondering if you did something wrong, eager to make it right.

You inhale sharply as I push you onto your back. I’m on you now, gentleness forgotten, my hands pulling off your panties. The scent of your arousal is driving me, and I need to be inside you. Now. 

Sure you’ve had other men, and some have even given you what you need but not the way I do. I push your legs open, you resist, but it's paltry, for form. I kiss your mouth, feel your tongue dance with mine. I maul your neck and you whimper, almost in fear. I push inside you. You’re wet and yielding, and I don’t go slow. You gasp and cry out. I should be sorry for going fast, but I’m not.

I’m sorry for not going faster. 

Now I’m fucking you, and it’s hard but slow, and there’s no anger in it. In fact, you put your hand on my face, and I can’t help but look on you with love. That fucking word, love. But its true.

I’m fierce with you because I don’t know any other way to be. I’m rough because that’s what you need. What you’ve always needed. But even as I pin your wrists above your head, hard enough to bruise, you say something. 

“I love you,” god that fucking word again but its true and I know it is. I’m fucking you like you need me to and I’m doing it on instinct, and I’m so harsh with you, but there's no anger in me. Just pleasure and joy. This is a reunion. A real one. Long overdue.

You look at me, helpless in pleasure and scream my name as you cum. It’s too much, and I follow. I swell and pulse inside you, over and over, for an eternity. As I do your eyes pierce me at least as deeply as I’ve penetrated you. I stop, releasing your wrists, kissing you passionately, but finally, something like tenderness enters my movements. We make out like a couple of love-struck teens, there on the side of the road. I say something to you, and you nod and smile, tears back in your eyes.

Things went farther than I expected. It was supposed to just be fun, but I just came inside you, looking into your eyes. Words were exchanged. There’s something else too, a catch in my throat. In my chest. 

When I try to pull away, you cling to me, and I realize that you felt it as well. We’ve trapped ourselves, the old smoldering attraction finally blossoming into long-suppressed flame. It’s too late now to put it out.

Before either of us really think about it, I’m on my back, and you’re on my chest. You’ve pushed your skirt down, and I’ve pulled my pants back up, so we’re decent, but we briefly slip away together, into old memories and new dreams. I wake up to the sound of a car passing and a soft breeze blowing your now-unruly hair into my face. I’m satisfied.

I help you clean up. Well, as much as we can with the tissues I keep in the glove compartment. We laugh about what a mess we’ve made, but you seem delighted to have so much of me inside you. We get back in and drive back to the highway. We’re silent, and you pass through relaxation into a deep sleep.

Eventually, you wake and turn the radio on, keeping the volume low. I crack the windows a bit, to wake both of us up. We start talking again. Conversations about shared interests, old inside jokes. We don’t pretend that it didn’t happen. Our hands entwine often, and we can’t stop touching each other. Your face is a perpetual flush, and I can tell you haven’t been fucked like that in a long time. I don’t say it, but you know what a good girl you’ve been for me. How much I needed you. You finally realize how much power you really have over me. It’s frightening, but I’m glad that you do. 

We’re getting close to home. It’s not likely but certainly possible that someone could see us. If we want to maintain this facade, we should stop acting like this. Walk a certain distance apart in time and space. But instead we drift together at every rest stop, gas station, and restaurant; you leaning into me, my arm around your waist. Anyone who sees us will know that we’re together. Maybe even that we just fucked. There’s no other explanation for our closeness.

I drop you off, and we share a long, languid, intense kiss before I help you bring your bags to the door. I say hi to your family, and they’re happy to see me. We’re old friends, after all. I pull away, watching you in the rear-view mirror. I’m empty again.

I’m looking forward to seeing my family, but I can’t stop thinking about the return trip. But then, maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps there won’t be a return trip, not really. We got lost along the way, and there’s no going back, I can see that now. Wherever we end up going, I’m content that we’ll get there together.


End file.
